


in which the ground glimmers with a greeting, and the air shimmers with a secret

by purplejohto



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Halloween, not sure what else to tag it as lmao, part of a collection of works around other fics? maybe? i haven't decided yet, the hint of an early christmas, uh, warning for a fuck word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 10:36:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21098072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplejohto/pseuds/purplejohto
Summary: Hank dropped a few bags on the newly cleared table. Packaged fake webs, plastic spiders and Halloween themed rolls of paper quickly slid out. The second bag was filled to the brim with different brands of candy, sweets and chocolate. And the third bag was everything skeletons. Just skeletons."Why did you buy so many skeletal decorations?""For the war.""What war??""The Skeleton War."





	in which the ground glimmers with a greeting, and the air shimmers with a secret

It was only 6 PM but the sun was already setting; something Connor quickly realized was a normal rhythm when winter arrived at their hemisphere. Soon, it'll be dark out when it's only 5 PM.  
  


Pulling his attention away from the flickering sun, Connor stared at the small healthy pumpkin in front of him. He was standing by the table, chair pushed aside, having found that scraping out the guts of the plant was much easier when he was on his feet than when he was when eye level with it. His arms were slimy and sticky, seeds covering up to his elbows. Halloween was only a week away, and despite deciding against trick or treating, Connor thought it might be fun to at least decorate, dress up, and maybe buy candy for any kids who may be out to do the holiday tradition themselves.   
  


Carving a classic smiley face onto the pumpkin, its mouth made of jagged edges, Connor stepped back to admire his work. All he needed to do was lower the electronic candle into the hollowed-out pumpkin, place the lid back on, and leave it out by their doorsteps. But that last step would have to wait until the long-anticipated day. Hank had wanted to use a real wax candle in the pumpkin for old times sake but Connor argued that it would be a safety hazard, should someone try to steal it and end up knocking the candle over.  
  


"So you’re prepping up our pumpkin to be stolen?" Hank had asked.  
  


"Of course not Hank, but with hazardous elements like fire, you can never be too careful,” was Connor's reply.  
  


Connor washed his hands and cleaned up the kitchen area, just in time for Hank to arrive home from his trip to the store. The middle-aged Lieutenant dropped a few bags on the newly cleared table. Packaged fake webs, plastic spiders and Halloween themed rolls of paper quickly slid out. The second bag was filled to the brim with different brands of candy, sweets and chocolate. And the third bag was everything skeletons. _ Just _ skeletons. It was a lot, and the surprise must've shown on Connor's face because, in the corner of his eye, Hank huffed defensively.  
  


"I know I was originally against participating in Halloween this year ‘cause it's stupid and for kids, but since we are, we're gonna celebrate it properly."  
  


"I'm about 1 year old, Hank. I'm technically a child."  
  


"Yet you only act like one 30% of the time." It was like a backwards insult.  
  


Connor frowned. Did he act like a child? Despite claiming to be one, he found he didn't like to have 'acting like a child' attached to him. Such a phrase would imply he displayed ‘childish qualities’: acting immature, rude, naïve and wide-eyed, which he found ghastly goes against his socially polite nature. Being a child and acting like was one was _completely_ different. Hank would later insist that Connor was especially like a wide-eyed kid, fascinated by everything he had yet to discover and intrigued by everything he had yet to understand. but Connor just shook it off, taking a skeleton decoration out of the third bag. It was folded into a messy rectangle, but holding it only from the ring on top, the rest of the skeleton dropped down, pictures of bones connected by movable cheap steel joints. Connor guessed they would be hung up against a closet, a door, or maybe even a wall, letting gravity do her spooky thing. And there was still an entire bag of different bony creatures to hang up and place around the corners of the house.   
  


"Why did you buy so many skeletal decorations?"  
  


"For the war."  
  


"What war??"  
  


"The Skeleton War."  
  


Hank didn't offer any more explanations or information. He moved up to the counter to whip up some dinner and left Connor to spin confused circles of yellow.  
  


"Okay, Hank. I suppose, all that’s left are the costumes. Maybe Sumo can wear a handkerchief around his neck or attached to his collar? Ones with spiderweb patterns?"  
  


"Oh, I like that. Sumo doesn't like hats or clothes like most dogs but handkerchiefs, he doesn’t mind."  
  


"What about you, Lieutenant?" the familiar formality slipped by Connor, his LED racing in yellow, a very visible process of seeing Connor's gears churning to formulate an idea.  
  


"Hank," he cracked an egg into a sizzling pan, absentmindedly correcting Connor's mistake, "Uh, haven't really thought about it. ’s been some time since Halloween and its customs was something I’d plan on doin’.” and Hank didn't need to continue for both of them to understand what Hank was talking about; a certain young presence, someone that would've been an active participant in the holiday, missing from the household, not there to revive an excited spooky spirit. 10 years later, and Hank found that Connor would soon reignite that energy once again. Maybe it was a sign that he was healing, getting better, and moving on (but never forgetting).  
  


After a few mourning and respectful beats passed, Connor decided to suggest his idea.  
  


"Why don't we dress up as Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson?"  
  


Hank raised an eyebrow, but some sort of excitement seemed to take hold of him. A throwback. A reference to a piece of popular culture from his youth, perhaps? "You know, it's been a few decades since I've heard those names. They were huge, and I mean _huge _, figures back when I was growing up. Sherlock was a sophisticated genius, addicted to heroin, a polite sociopath, efficient and calculating,” Hank's got a sort of, hazy, far away look in his eyes, as he recounted the familiar lore in his past, "You know, you and Sherlock are pretty alike." Connor frowned.  
  


"I'm not addicted to heroin."  
  


Not breaking his look of glazed over eyes, Hank continued his reminiscing, "That’s not what I meant, Connor. And Dr. John Watson was an interesting case, too. Traumatized, suffering from severe mental health issues, found himself teaming up with Sherlock, solving cases, and ultimately leading to the recovery of his well being and the discovery of a good friend." It was like he was giving a passionate speech at a United Nations Conference. Connor had never seen Hank’s vocabulary so grand outside of, ‘fucking’, ‘shit’ and ‘asshole’.  
  


"The perfect fit for you. Which is why I suggested we could dress up as them for Halloween." Connor was already searching up nearby Holmes & Watson outfits. This close to Halloween, online deliveries would be overflowing and they'd end up getting their costumes way too late.  
  


"I don't see why not. Might be fun, who knows."  
  


"Yes, and it would definitely suit the precinct's costume party very well."  
  


"Wait," Hank paused, halting in the cutting of his sandwich. "Precinct's costume party? What? When is this?"  
  


"This Wednesday, Hank. Did you not get the Email?"  
  


"Oh, I don't check Emails.” he calmly returned to carrying his sandwich to the kitchen table, which still stank of pumpkin guts. Connor, however, was startled.  
  


"What? That is highly unprofessional etiquette, Lieutenant--"  
  


Hank scoffed.  
  


"--What if you had missed something important? Or an emergency update?"  
  


"If it was important, specifically involving me, Jeffery'll just directly call or text me, and if it's a widespread update, or uh, an event, I'll just end up hearing 'bout the shit from you. Just like this."  
  


Connor sighed but ultimately decided to leave the rest of his speech be. Ignoring his work-issued email certainly wasn't optimal but there were many other bad habits Hank still had that took place a bit higher on Connor's list of importance.  
  


"There's a store, 4 streets from here, that sell Sherlock and Watson costumes. Should we go check them out tomorrow?"  
  


Hank, demolishing his sandwich, agreed, before helping Connor hang up the many, many skeletal decorations he had lost control and bought. "Not too early in the morning. It's one of our hard-earned days off. I'm sleeping in even if it kills me." Hank recently hadn't had much chance to show up at work, late, and slightly inebriated anymore, with the help and encouragement from Connor. Oh, and, uh, the fact Connor is a literal physical alarm clock.   
  


"Of course," deciding to treat himself a bit as well, Connor set the end of his stasis mode to 10 AM, two hours later than their usual mornings, but definitely still earlier than Hank to ensure that he had time to make him breakfast.  
  


The house fell into a comfortable and rhythmic silence, filled only with Sumo's breathing and the shuffling of Halloween decor. Hank would soon enough lumber into his room for the night, tired from the day's errand trips and sore arms from decorations. Connor then cleaned up the rest, quietly storing away bags, throwing away plastic packaging, and leaving the bowl of candy by the door, ready, for spooky trick-or-treaters. Eventually, Connor would go to bed too, in Cole's old room, now adjusted to inhabit a resting android.  
  


Outside the Anderson household, the first few flakes of snow fell from the sky, littering the dirt and cement with white spots, barely noticeable, before melting away. Though it wasn't nearly cold enough yet for a proper snowfall, for the neighbourhood slept at the tail end of October, the city let the soft drops of vanilla drift down anyway, dotting houses and streets alike.  
  


When Connor wakes up, there will be no traces of misty snow, but as he peers out from the living room windows above Sumo's slumber, he will note the differences; in which the ground glimmers with a greeting and the air shimmers with a secret.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and reactions and are always welcome uwu!!


End file.
